Once And Forever: Virtually Impossible Part 9

No. And yes. I understood, but I couldn't accept it. 'Meeting=bad. Talking still good?'

'Even though you type like a first grader, I suppose so.'

'Good.' Not good enough, but I'd give it time.

'Do you have anything else you need me to work on?'

I sat back in my chair and sighed. "Help me find a way out of my marriage."

11.

Hayden I had a lot of other things I should have been doing, but then, I always had a lot of things I should be doing. And I did them-days, nights, weekends. Not a day went by without doing those d.a.m.n things I was supposed to do. Except today.

Today, I was busy with something else. Since I'd arrived at the office at eight this morning, I'd done nothing but stare at my desktop computer, wondering what the h.e.l.l was wrong with me. The thing was almost a year old and had only been used a half-dozen times until three weeks ago. Any day now, the letters were going to start fading off the keys from too much use. And there was only one reason. Because I couldn't control myself.

I clicked the little chat icon and selected the only name it contained, noting the tiny green dot that indicated that she was at her computer. I was running out of work for her. She was fast and thorough, as if she did nothing else. That would be unfortunate. Just because I did it, didn't mean anyone else should. Although, I hoped for her sake that she accomplished more than I was currently capable of.

'Am I giving you too much to do?' I sat back and waited. Maybe she'd just left her computer on and wasn't there.

'No. Why do you ask?' she answered instantly. Did she sleep next to it?

'I don't want to overburden you.'

'Bring it on, Hayden.'

I smiled as I typed, 'You've just asked for a challenge I'm not sure you're up to facing.'

'I think I can take it.'

But could I? 'No one else ever has.'

'What happened to your old a.s.sistant?'

'I buried her in the backyard.' I pressed send and then typed, 'Only kidding-I don't have a backyard.'

'Are you amusing yourself right now?'

'Absolutely.' In a way new to me. Hayden Bennett didn't 'chat' or smile or enjoy much of anything. He worked. Everything else was either secondary or nonexistent. And the thinking in third person thing needed to stop yesterday. What was wrong with him...me...? Oh, Christ. This was rapidly approaching stupid, if it wasn't already there.

'Are you going to answer my question?' Her question? Oh right, my previous a.s.sistant.

'Natasha is on maternity leave. And because I know you'll ask-the baby's not mine.' I sat back again, wondering why I'd written that. Another thing that I didn't do was worry about what others thought of me. It was a useless pastime that only encouraged a person's confidence to slip. But now I cared about what a person I'd never actually met or seen thought of me. And I wanted her to care about what I thought of her. The idea bothered me. But instead of pushing it away like I should've, I considered it. Wanted to explore its cause and ramifications, if only to understand the dynamics. In a business sense...primarily.

Definitely stupid.

'Ha. That's not what I was going to ask.'

I swallowed, understanding what she wanted to know. 'I have no intention of getting rid of you, Sira. In the backyard or otherwise.'

'Thanks.'

'Not necessary. I enjoy your work almost as much as I enjoy our chats.'

'Me too.'

I felt my heart start to beat faster, felt the muscles of my chest tighten. It was a foreign, but also welcome, sensation. Carson's advice rang in my ears, along with his bizarre cowgirl a.n.a.logy.

'But we probably shouldn't chat so much.'

I blinked, then re-read the words. Our chats were the best part of my days. I didn't want them to end. 'If it's a matter of your time, I'll compensate you.'

'Doesn't it seem a little insincere if you pay me to chat with you?'

'You forgot to add 'fairly pathetic.'' Thankfully, it was possible to laugh and type at the same time. 'But I don't want to take up time you would otherwise use to earn an income.'

'You could always pay me more for the time I work for you.'

I laughed. 'Excellent idea! How much am I paying you now? Whatever it is, increase it.'

'Wow. I'm surprised you've gotten so successful if you'll trust someone you barely know to set the price.'

'Do I barely know you, Sira?'

I waited for her response. When it didn't come immediately-as it usually did-I wondered if I'd pushed too far. So I typed, 'Plus I have great lawyers who will hunt you down if your next check is written out for a million and change. Although, by then, I suppose you could've fled to a country with no extradition.'

'I pick Bora Bora.'

Of all places, why that one? Clare and I had gone to Bora Bora for our honeymoon. I'd chosen it because the sound of the island's name had a certain humor to it, and it was far away from our regular lives. Back then, I was naive enough to think the distance would allow us to have an honest and open conversation, even after the point of no return. It didn't happen. Clare had been even more reserved, and there was nothing I could do about it. Our marriage was a legal confirmation that she'd never have what she truly wanted, could never be who she truly was. I understood her disappointment, although it was still hard not to take a little personally.

So we'd spent a week in paradise thousands of miles away from our families, and still thousands of miles away from who we were. Neither of us where we wanted to be or with the person we were meant to be with. Not that I'd ever actually thought there was someone I was meant to be with.

'Have you been to Bora Bora?' I asked.

'No. But I like the name. It's fun to say.'

'It's also beautiful. Peaceful.' And with the right person, probably extremely romantic. 'You should go.'

'As soon as I get that million dollar check.'

'But I would know where you'd gone and could find you.'

'True. I'll have to check on their extradition laws. I think I'll take off early so I can plan my escape.' Escape. That sounded perfect.

I paused, wanting to say something I shouldn't even think. But I still had no idea what she looked like, only knowing her voice, her wit, and her intelligence. I really wanted to see her smile.

Because she was so comfortable with technology, I imagined her to be young, a bit younger than me. But apart from that, I couldn't imagine. Well, yes I could imagine. I imagined all the time. Another new occurrence in my life-daydreaming.

In my mind, she was pretty but not beautiful, average height, not particularly thin or particularly large. Yes, I wanted to meet her. Very much. If only to see if I was right. Right. If that were the sole reason, I might have been able to stop myself from typing what I did next.

'I really need to meet you in person.'

She could've lived anywhere on earth, but she lived here, in the same city I did. I didn't know what part of San Francisco she lived or worked in, but she'd mentioned enough local businesses and events to let me know she was inside the city or somewhere just over a bridge from here.

'I thought we'd gone over this. Besides, you'd have to contact my boss, and she'd probably say no. Nothing personal. It's company policy. Too much danger of one of the people thinking it's not a work-related meeting, or of both people knowing it's not a work-related meeting, if you know what I mean.'

d.a.m.n it. 'Does that sort of thing happen frequently?'

'Not a lot. Just a few times.'

'Has it ever happened to you?' Did I really just ask her that?

'No.'

'Would you' s.h.i.t. What was I doing? 'Sorry. Finger slip.'

'What were you going to ask?'

Something I shouldn't. 'Forgot what we were discussing.'

'Scroll up and reread our conversation.'

'It wasn't important.' I pressed send and immediately started typing again. 'Okay, it was.'

'You're a confusing man.'

I smiled. 'Very true.' My fingers tapped the keys rapidly, but not hard enough to make any words appear. Because I didn't know what to write. Screw it. 'I'd really like to meet you. No strings, no bosses. Maybe tomorrow?'

I waited a while for her to respond. Enough time to sit back in my chair and worry I'd crossed the line again.

'Why?'

Good question. Simple answer-because I was an idiot. Harder answer-because I needed to know if what I was feeling was real or just an illusion, something brought about by a smart, charismatic woman who would have absolutely no interest in me whatsoever. This was all so foreign to me, but I couldn't deny it was happening.

Why? Because if we met, maybe I would get an answer. I would know if our chemistry was only an effect of our anonymity or if it was something more. Because I had to know if what my brother had said was possible.

I picked up my phone and dialed her number before I could convince myself not to.

"h.e.l.lo?" I don't know why she sounded so different-she hadn't changed, I had. My perceptions, at least.

"Sira?"

"Yeah." Her voice was hesitant, which it probably should be. We'd only spoken a few times and the last time had ended with me admitting I was married. It made sense for her to be a little battle shy.

"I know there are lines, boundaries to a working relationship, and I've always stayed within them. Always. I want you to tell me if I ever step too far across them or make you feel uncomfortable in any way. Because I would like our relationship to continue in whatever manner it can."

"Wow," she said after a moment. "You speak a lot faster than you type."

I sat up in my chair. "I'm about to say something that could be grossly inappropriate. Therefore, I want to be absolutely sure before I start that, if you were to feel uncomfortable-in any way-you would tell me. At that point, I would immediately stop the discussion and promise to never mention it again."

Her silence wasn't encouraging, but I would wait, living with a mind full of turmoil and doubt, for as long as was necessary.

"Okay."

I let out a breath. "You asked me why I wanted to meet you. And my answer is because I don't type well enough, and I want to get to know you more than is possible with chat boxes and emails and phones."

"You're my client, Hayden."

"I realize that, and I've come to the conclusion that I don't care."

"You're married."

"I realize that too, and I do care about that." Which was the reason I was currently feeling nauseous. Because of a contract built on nothing but respect-no love, no pa.s.sion, just respect. "My marriage is complicated. It's not something I've ever wanted to hide from you, but maybe I should have brought it up sooner, or at least before I started having feelings for you." I heard a long sigh.

"What kind of feelings?"

"I'm not sure, which is why I want to meet." My heart hadn't pounded like this since my father was alive. Fear. This was outright fear because this was something I couldn't control, couldn't maneuver or affect. This was another person having control over me, her thoughts more important than my own.

"How many feelings for me?" she asked.

"I'm hesitant to put a number to them because I'm not sure how that would be done. But I'm comfortable with saying 'some.'"

"'Some' isn't good. Neither is 'any' or 'one.' Those aren't good either."

"I know, but knowing that doesn't make them any less real. Or less confusing." I released my grip on the arm of my chair, stretching my fingers just so I had something to focus on other than waiting for her response. It didn't work-my fingers' movement had no effect on my anxiety level. "If we met, just once, I'd be able to understand them better. Maybe they'd turn out to be nothing. But if we never meet, then I'll never know. And I would really, really like to know." To get past the wondering, hoping, fantasizing stage. Just end it without anyone getting hurt.

"What if they don't turn out to be nothing? What then, Hayden? I'm not going to break up your marriage."

"You don't need to. It's already irreparably broken. If it weren't, I wouldn't be asking you for anything."

"It's still not good."

"For what reason?" I kept my voice calm, even though it was a struggle. She hadn't said no yet. She'd said a lot of other things, but not 'no.' What if there was a chance that she felt the same? That I wasn't alone in this. That I wasn't imagining it.

She cleared her throat. "I like my job and would enjoy keeping it."

"So if we were to meet in a social environment, you would lose your job?"

"It depends."

"On...?" I understood her hesitancy but wished it wasn't there. I was putting myself on the line, admitting to something that shouldn't be, and all I wanted was for her to be honest, as well. Whatever the answer.

"If you were to make a complaint..."